Confession
by uranusisdirty
Summary: Midoriya confesses his innermost feelings and thoughts to the sleeping Bakugou, Midoriya-style.
1. Brain, please

Midoriya Izuku opened his eyes, and woke up in a world where his dreams were realized.

Sleeping soundly right next to him— _in the same bed—_ was one **Bakugou Katsuki.**

"HUH?" Midoriya screamed out loud.

Or had every intention to, but his mouth just opened in a silent _'O'_ shape, his jaw dropping. He stayed motionless for several seconds; blinking furiously to wipe the sleep away from his senses. After a while, he suddenly and vigorously shook his head from left to right with his green eyes tightly shut. Breathing in deeply, he stopped moving again and slowly opened one eye, then the other.

Bakugou Katsuki was still there.

Right next to him. Sleeping.

Looking so peaceful— _angelic_ , _even—_ Midoriya noted in shock.

The poster boy of Satan's spawn was sleeping soundly, and _non-threateningly_ beside him, looking like he wouldn't hurt a fly, _couldn't_ hurt a fly. _This_ sleeping boy with pale, sunburst hair, and cherub lips would _cry_ , if—in the unlikely event—a fly somehow bumped into him and went off-balance, and—because it had been drinking earlier from an opened beer can and was essentially _flying under the influence_ —couldn't stop its fly body from knocking against a wall, injuring him (he is a father of two hundred, recently divorced) terribly, leaving him paralyzed forever.

 _ **This**_ sleeping Bakugou would cry, most definitely.

He would mourn the death of that fly (even though it didn't die, just paralyzed. It's still sad.).

 _Brain, brain! Brain, listen. Please. Just—what are you even—? L-let me think for a second, okay?_

Midoriya wanted to make sure he wasn't dreaming— _the whole thing feels so real_ —but he was also afraid of waking up. What if it **was** just a dream? If this was just a dream, then his mind is playing a cruel, desperate game with his—its— _their—_ emotions.

 _Damn you, brain._

Try as he might, Izuku's mind cannot compute what –in _the actual mother-lovin' heck_ – was happening right now, how it was happening, or _if_ it _was_ actually happening. He also couldn't joggle his sleepy brain to remember the last thing he did.

And so he did what any average person would do at the given situation— **he froze**. Like a statue. With saucer eyes, and saucer mouth. He froze in the _exact_ position his body woke up in; lying on his right, facing the sleeping teen, hands clasped together as if begging some higher power in the universe to grant him his most fervent desire—and _lo and behold! —_ Bakugou Katsuki is dropped down from the heavens (or dredged up from hell, where he obviously lived) and delivered right at his side—dark, long lashes; pink, slightly open lips; loose, blank tank top that both showed and covered muscular but slender upper torso; sweet, _sweet,_ vanilla smell emanating on him from _everywhere—_ and all.

Midoriya started to panic. He could hear fast _'thump-thump-thump'_ sounds coming from his right ear glued against pillow he was laying on. It took him a moment to realize it was the echo of his pulse quickening, his blood desperately trying to flow to his brain; but instead of clearing his thought process, it only made his heart palpitate.

 _Oh, no._

 _Am I dying? Is this it? Did I already die?_

 _I did, didn't I?_

 _I died._

 _I'm in heaven right now._

 _But wait, why is Kacchan here? Did he die, too? No. No,_ Izuku mused. That wasn't possible. There was _no way_ Bakugou was going to heaven. Midoriya would sue.

 _This blonde delinquent hoodlum with a knack for assault has an express ticket straight down one of the seven levels of Hell, for sure. Heck, he probably works there as a tormentor, insulting hapless and miserable sinners by telling them they're 'useless', 'ugly', 'quirkless'— Okay, okay! Let's stop before we actually decide to strangle this bastard._

 _Okay, Izuku. So you're not in heaven, and you're definitely not in hell because—well, I mean, look at_ _ **this**_ _!_ Midoriya gestured imaginary hands at Bakugou's direction. _This is a wish_ _ **granted**_ _if I'd ever seen one._

Right in front of his eyes was the unconscious, non-violent, inert _Kacchan._

The bully with all the gifts—perfect body musculature, perfectly above-average good looks, perfectly amazing quirk, perfect grades, perfectly elite social status, and everything else that made a perfect person perfect—Bakugou possessed (except for good morals and right conduct).

And as he mumbles to himself and ponders, the perfect Bakugou Katsuki was perfectly packaged, perfectly shipped, and perfectly left at his side for— _uhm—uh…I-I guess I would start with punching? Choking? Kissing him on the leefs—_ Midoriya didn't exactly know.

Whatever the case, this situation was the culmination of Izuku's wildest dream.

 _Oh. But it's not a dream,_ Midoriya had to reiterate. _That's what I thought at first, but I'm not asleep._

 _Wait, did I already pinch myself?_

 _No, not yet._

Midoriya grabbed his left cheek with his index and thumb finger and squeezed. It hurt.

 _Ouch. Not a dream._ His eyes widened when another idea lit up the blurry recesses of his mind.

 _Oh, god, did I finally snap and have a psychotic break!?_

 _No._

 _No, no. No. My mind is working normally right now. I didn't go crazy. I'm_ _ **not**_ _crazy. I'm thinking normally. Yes, yes_ _ **we**_ _are. What?_

 _Well…okay, maybe not 'normally' per se, but my mind is working_ _ **how**_ _it usually works. I either mumble out loud or mumble mentally so, yes, I-I can assume with high probability that my brain didn't break. This is not a delusion. Because I'm mumbling and babbling and chatting with myself, like I always do. In my brain. Which is totally and completely normal. Yes, yes it is. Absolutely._ _ **I'm not crazy.**_

 _So, then—is this really real?_

 _Like, for real, though? Like for real_ _ **real**_ _?_

 _But wait, wait! What if—is this, this is like an effect of someone's quirk or something?_

 _I'm under the influence of someone's quirk? But what? And how? And why? I don't—and whose? Whose quirk is it?_

 _It's not Kacchan's._ _ **Everyone**_ _knows what Kacchan's quirk is. I know what his quirk is—_ _ **intimately.**_ _I keep a very close and personal connection with Kacchan's quirk. We talk all the time—well— 'they'—his fists—talk, and my face is their sounding board. It's an ideal relationship based on mutual trust and—okay._

 _Remember, Izuku, when I-we-you said that we-I-you were_ _ **not**_ _in the middle of a psychotic break? Yeah?_

 _Act like it._

 _Okay, so it's not Kacchan's doing. The guy would sooner eat his own fermented fecal matter than sleep on the same bed with_ _ **me**_ _,_ Midoriya's mind laughed wryly.

 _And obviously,_ _ **I**_ _didn't do it. There's no way, even if I wanted to. So badly. Unless…_

 _Is-is-is this actually my quirk presenting itself after 16 years?_

 _Nope._

 _No. Impossible. The latest someone's quirk manifested, ever, was at 5. And that child had some sort of congenital physical defect, if I remember correctly. She was born with—Izuku, hey! Jesus._

 _Okay, not the time. Okay, it's not me. Of course. And it isn't Kacchan._

 _So someone else._

 _A-a quirk that…uh—what? Makes fantasies come true? Huh. That's—is that—I've never heard of anyone with that kind of quirk. Ever. How would that even work?_

 _And, if someone actually had a fantasy-come-true-ing quirk (which is undoubtedly very unlikely), uhm—like, why me? Did I somehow help an old cloaked figure from a bunch of good-for-nothing punks (probably Kacchan's friends) and I was given a reward which is—well, this juvenile delinquent?_

 _I'm so confused right now._

 _But, yeah—why, though? I mean, what's the point? I'm—my mind works so it isn't a quirk user who wants to incapacitate me or anything (because why would anyone need to use their quirk to incapacitate me?)._

 _And why would Kacchan be… here… wait, where am I?_

Midoriya looked around, and the first thing he noticed was the very large open window—no, it was a door— _Oh, my, is this what they call a 'French door'? Wow, it looks so nice-HOLY SHIT I'M IN KACCHAN'S BEDROOM!_

A soft yelp came out of Midoriya's mouth as soon as he noticed Bakugou's signature orange backpack carelessly left on the floor, along with his crumpled white uniform shirt a few inches from it. A pair of black sneakers with orange trims and shoelaces was neatly put away in a narrow shelf beside the door. There were other pairs stacked on the shoe cabinet, but the bright color popped out against the dark shadows.

 _Shadows?_

Izuku realized it was currently night time wherever _reality, fantasy, or alternate dimension_ he was currently _summoned_ in. The faint slivers of light streaming in from outside was bluish and illuminated the otherwise completely dark bedroom. There was a breeze, but the room wasn't cold, or Midoriya didn't feel cold, lying close to Bakugou's _hotter-than-normal_ body. In fact, the combination of the night air and the warmth of the sleeping teen beside him enveloped Midoriya in a blanket of soothing ambiance. He could feel his body relaxing and being lulled back to sleep, or something else similar. He wasn't sure, but he heard himself gulp, and for some reason his throat was suddenly feeling tight.

He was _exhausted._

And…slowly, but surely—Midoriya began to remember why. There was a sudden stinging in his chest, like a chain with little poisonous barbs coiling around it, and fresh set of tears welled at the corner of his eyes. He turned his face away from the sleeping teen and choked back his sobs.

Midoriya didn't feel like being on the same bed as Bakugou anymore.

" _Believe that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof, shitstain!"_


	2. My Tits Hurt

_—_

 _"Believe that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof, shitstain!"_

 _—_

Midoriya Izuku had spent the whole year creating a _dossier_ on Bakugou Katsuki as a future Pro-Hero; painstakingly going over and scrutinizing **36 notebooks** he'd managed to write about his childhood friend through the years. It was a surprising revelation to the young man that he had actually written _that_ many journal books about the other teenager; since he would fill one notebook with endless ramblings (in written form) and observations about Bakugou—from his explosive quirk to his physical growth to his fighting techniques, etc.—then file it away, forgotten, on top of the tall bookshelf in his bedroom; behind books and other miscellaneous papers he hardly ever read.

It wasn't until he finished writing _**"The Chronicles of Bakugou the Bastard: The Demoniacal Fury of an Angry Potato (With Two Cherry Tomatoes For Eyes)"**_ _—_ the titles of his note books change depending on _how_ he felt towards the bastard at the time he wrote it (he had one journal named _**"The Outburst of an Angry Pimple"**_ _,_ which made him laugh out loud even though he was the one who thought of it in the first place)—when he realized that there was no longer a place on the shelf to add more notebooks—every inch of available space was filled with horizontal and vertical piles of his _"Bakunotes" –_ as he liked to call them. He sighed and thought it would be practical to get rid of them because one, he hadn't read any once they were tucked neatly behind existence, and two; because they were _all_ about someone he _lo—…_ they were _all_ about someone he _ha—…_ they were _all_ about Bakugou.

" _Which is kind of creepy… and yes, I know! I wrote it, brain. So shut up!"_

And so Izuku cleared out all the _Bakunotes_ from the shelf, and as he took journal after journal of, well, journals down, he started thinking in a cold sweat that he probably needed to find a new hobby (like cross-stitching)—or ask his mother to make an appointment with a _therapist._

 _This is… uhm, wow. This doesn't make me a stalker, though._

 _Right?_

 _Hey?_

 _No answer?_

…

Izuku brought the pile of notebooks and dropped them onto the small bed and he sat in a _seiza_ while facing the hillock of bound papersas if it was some mystical codex that may reveal the secret of the universe, of which Bakugou Katsuki was the _key._ He stared at the books; unmoving, except for his lips that seemed to be speaking a bunch of words rapidly, but there was no sound coming out.

Midoriya looked like he was having an internal dilemma—which, as so far known of the _always-slightly-muddled_ teen, was not _ **just**_ a look for him.

He _was_ actually talking to himself, by himself—actually having a heated debate, at that— _with_ himself, even orating his own version of _"Hamlet"_ (in his mind), which he thought years ago when he first heard about the word (from Bakugou) meant _'a tiny piece of ham'._ Which, as it was, did sound _delicious,_ especially coming from the blonde's mouth.

Izuku's inner symposium of thoughts were at a crossroads, and he – _they_ –Izuku, was having a hard time choosing whether to dispose of all his previous written notes, or keep them ( _in a not stalker-y kind of way, of course, but as a pro-hero and aspiring hero enthusiast!_ ).

 _To throw, or_ _not to throw: that is the question_ …

After about 10 more minutes of argument (both sides had very interesting points), _they—he—_ Izuku decided to skim through at least one or two pages of **one** journal very quickly just a tiny peek of a peep—before he makes an actual decision as to the fate of the _Bakunotes._

And so—already having wasted time with what turned out to be pointless contention with himself—Izuku picked up a random journal from the pile and started reading. He read. And read. And read; finishing the journal from start, up to the very last page. As he closed the cover of the notebook (which was, incidentally, titled **"Seeing Red, Boiling Mad, and on the Warpath: A How-to by Bakugou Katsuki"** ), he picked up another, and immediately immersed his eyes on its pages.

And so Izuku read, yet again. And again. And again. There was no order as to which notebook he lifted from the book mound—he'd read one he wrote 6 months ago, then read another he'd written 8 years ago. Each journal he opened made him feel a myriad of emotions—wanting to cry, laughing (mostly at the silly titles he came up with for each notebook), _actually_ crying, punching his innocent bed in anger, blushing in embarrassment… Izuku **looked** like a crazy person; which, knowing the _always-slightly-muddled-teen,_ was not **just—**

Midoriya picked up a slightly different-looking notebook from the pile. It was tattered and had stains all over the hardcover, where " _Izucchan & Kacchan–4 yo" _was written. He recognized absently that it was his mother's handwriting, and as soon as he turned to the first page, his face turned _beet red_ as he realized that he was now looking at _the_ very first _'Bakunote'_ ever written:

" _ **D Advenshures of Kachan d Xplodohero spescial gesst Izucchan"**_

 **Kaboom Kaboom Kachan**

Despite his red-faced embarrassment, his emerald-colored eyes crinkled in a smile; memories of the two of them, small and invincible—going on many _'advenshures'—_ quickly flooded his thoughts and took him back to the happiest moments in his life.

 _Everything was so…beautiful then_ , Izuku recalled, his fingers touching the yellowing pages of the notebook. Whether it was just him romanticizing his _childhood-gone-by_ , or being sentimental, Midoriya could only describe his memories as such—a beautiful moment cradled in blooming light and the fresh scent of _morning dew_ grass—nothing missing, nothing wanted; they were children who knew of no other desire than to delight in _everything._

And so they did. He laughed at the smallest things, and so did Bakugou; _Kacchan_ — his eyes sparkling like polished ruby under the summer sun, two lower front teeth missing in the otherwise toothy smile—typical _Kacchan_ style _._ He was a confident child, even before his quirk manifested, and other kids seemed to flock to him as their natural leader; but Katsukiwould often ditch the others and instead drag the shy Izuku excitedly to show him a bug he caught, or a stray cat he befriended. He included the timid and freckled little boy in his curious discoveries and explorations; scratching his nose and grinning in satisfaction when he sees Izuku looking in amazement at his achievements, bright eyes sparkling in wonder.

"Hey, _Izu_ , ya know your eyes are green, right?"

"Ye-yeah, I know. Sensei say my eyes are _gween_ but your eyes are _wed_ and she says she says that we're like _Squishmash_ but I dun get it but she—"

" **I'll gonna marry you,** _ **Izu**_ **."**

Katsuki's eyes were fixed on the smaller boy's face as he spoke, then looked away with a smile. "And is _'green'_ and _'red'_ , not _'gween'_ and _'wed'_ , and is _'Christmas'_ ," he added, not giving the smaller boy a chance to reply.

"Ohhh, Santa! I love Santa!" Izuku exclaimed, his big eyes widening in excitement. Katsuki frowned.

"Haaa? Are you even listening, _baka-Izu_?"

"Am lis'ning, but is hard to say _gw—_ and _we—_ I can't say it, _Kacchannn_ …" the green-haired boy pouts.

"Arghh, not _that_! What. I. Mean. Is. Wha's your answer, Izu?" the blonde boy was slowly getting frustrated, but he emphasizes each word so Izuku can figure it out.

"Hmm, what answer?" Izuku blinked at him, and Katsuki balled his tiny hands into a fist.

"Din't you hear what I sayst?"

"Huh, what?"

"Stupid _Izu_! I just telled you I'll gonna marry you! You're s'posta say _'yes'_ , _you'll gonna marry me_! Stupid! Stupid! **Stupiiddd!** " Katsuki's hands grabbed on his blonde hair, stomping his feet to the ground, then kicked away dirt and sand towards Izuku's direction.

The freckled boy shielded his face with both arms and turned his head away from his blonde friend; Katsuki was still throwing an angry fit, spraying particles of sand with his little feet.

"Hey, stop is, tha's mean, Kacchan! And am not stupid!"

Katsuki roared his reply like a little baby lion, "You am too, you _am_ _too_ stupid! _Baka-Izu is stupid and ugly!"_ Izuku pouted, his brows coming together in a frown.

"F-fine! I don' like you 'nymore, _Kacchan!_ Am goin'ome!" Izuku turned around and started walking away.

"Wha— _oi!_ " Katsuki suddenly stopped his tantrum, and quickly ran after Izuku.

When he caught up to the other boy, he walked with him quietly for a few steps, biting his lips and darting nervous glances at his angry friend's face. When they exited the small playground, the young boy began talking again, but his voice was different.

"You goin' the wrong way, ya know…" Katsuki said softly, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his favorite green shorts.

"Am not! My house is that-that— _gwee—_ is that one!" Izuku pointed at the small house over the distance, its bright green rooftop standing out amidst the dark-colored roofs of neighboring houses.

The blonde tyke looked shocked and opened his mouth with an exhale. "No, is not! I—I'll gonna marry you so you—you s'posta live with me! Tha's how is works! I aksed and perpost so! A-and I already telled my Mom that you comin' ta lo—live with me and she sayt _ok,_ OK? So les'go," Katsuki went to grab Izuku's hand but suddenly stopped, "Ah! _Ch_ e, I forgot to give you your _weeding_ gift!" The blonde boy took out a small matchbox from his pocket and proudly handed it to Izuku. When the wavy-haired boy just looked at it, still pouting, Katsuki dropped his hand and looked down sadly.

"You—you don' wanna to marry me?"

"I-I dun wanna, you so mean to me all somestimes, _Kacchan!_ Alway callin' me _stupid, and ugly, and mud-face!_ Somestimes, you-you know, I don' wanna play with you anymore ever 'coz you alway pinch me and push me and ist hurt," Izuku's tears rolled down his cheeks, looking at the other boy still holding the matchbox in his hand.

Katsuki grunted, then buried his face on the sleeve of his All Might shirt and cried. When Izuku saw that Katsuki was in tears, he bit his lip in guilt; not expecting the always-laughing and rambunctious _Kacchan_ to be that upset. This was the first time he had seen his friend cry, and he didn't quite know what to do, so he started to mutter inaudible words to calm himself down while waiting for _Kacchan_ to apologize first, even though Izuku _really, really_ wanted Katsuki to smile again.

After a while, the blonde boy stopped sniffling, his tiny face still hidden between the juncture of his arms, not wanting Izuku to see him in tears. The green-haired boy waited patiently until his friend vigorously rubbed his eyes on his shirt one last time, a little red-faced when he glanced back at Izuku. Katsuki gingerly took a closer step towards the smaller wavy-haired kid, and he noticed that Izuku was still moving his lips quietly, avoiding his eyes.

"Here." Katsuki held out the matchbox towards Izuku once again, but Izuku hesitated to take it. Katsuki sighed and took the green-haired boy's left hand and placed the small box on his friend's palm.

"Your eyes are green, Izu," the younger boy nodded in reply, but Katsuki wasn't finished talking, "and green is my _favarite_."

He grabbed the fabric of his green shorts and pointed at it.

"So…I'll gonna…I really wanna marry you, 'coz green is my _favarite_. D'you get is?"

"But you're mean to me somestimes, so I don' wanna live with you alway…" Izuku muttered.

"I—I'm sorry, 'kay?" Katsuki leaned forward and hugged Izuku gently then let go. "I don' wanna be mean but you— you don' know—you don' care about my-my-my— _tits_."

Izuku looked up at Bakugou, clearly having no idea what the taller boy was trying to say, but he smiled at his friend to let him know he heard his apology.

"L-like that!" Katsuki muttered, face turning pink. "H-here, I feel hurt here when you do that," he grabbed the other boy's right hand and placed it on top of his chest.

"S-sorry, Kacchannn! I dun wanna _not_ be your fend anymore, I din' mean it, sorry. I weally like you, Kacchan, 'coz you cool and you-you made fends with Tora—and now Tora's all so my fend now, so you cool, Kacchan—"

"Okay, okay! Bak— _Izu,_ I telled you my _tits_ hurts when you smile, so don'—don' be smile too much, _stupid!_ And Tora is only friends with me. Don' go near 'im if am not there, he gon bite you!" Katsuki yelled, and Izuku frowned.

"That-! I can't do that, Kacchan! I smile 'coz am happy and am mostimes happiest with you, so it no good, Kacchan…I can't do it."

"W-well, then, you just hafta kiss me when my _tits_ hurt so it get better, 'kay?"

"I kiss you on the _tits_?"

"No!" Katsuki poked his cheek with his index finger, "you kiss me here 'coz you'll gonna be my _beetle princess, and wilfe."_

"Me? A _prinshess_? But amma boy, Kacchannnn! No fair, I wanna be your _beechle prince_!" Izuku's lips pouted cutely, "'Coz see, you says, you says if I kiss you then you'll gonna feel better and that what _Prince Charming_ do to the _punkin_..."

"Haaahhh, why would Prince Charming kiss a _pumpkin?_ And it's _pumpkin."_ Katsuki looked smugly for a bit, then his eyes went wide, "Hey! I'm not a pumpkin, _baka-_ Izu!" He pinched Izuku's freckled cheek, lightly and carefully, so the smaller boy wouldn't get hurt.

The green-haired boy was about to say something, but he felt the matchbox Katsuki had given him move. He jumped in surprise and the matchbox flew to the ground, almost landing on the hands of the blonde boy who tried to catch it from falling. He quickly lifted it up while still kneeling on the grassy sidewalk and opened it.

"Arghhhhhh, are you tryna kill your _weeding_ ring?!"

The blonde boy inspected the contents of the box and sighed in relief. He then glared at the utterly confused Izuku, then, still kneeling, yanked his friend's left hand, and placed a _live_ June bug with bright green iridescent coloring on the tip of Izuku's middle finger, letting it crawl around until it went to rest near the base of the small boy's index finger. Katsuki beamed happily at Izuku and kissed him on the cheek.

"Okay, Izu, listen. Maybe you still a baby tha's why you don' get it, but I'll gonna marry ya when we're big and you'll gonna live at my house, coz green is my _favarite_ color and your eyes are green like that shiny beetle I catched… your eyes are green and yellow like that beetle and my Mom's shiny ring and I like…I really like that beetle." Katsuki turned away from Izuku's puzzled expression, and scratched his nose; one eye closed in an embarrassed squint.

"But my eyes is just _gween_ , not _wellow_."

"No, they're not!' Katsuki placed his palms on either side of Izuku's cheeks, squeezing the freckled face looking up at his. He rested his forehead against Izuku's and peered into the innocent eyes in front of him.

"See? Told ya, it not just green in there your eyes, it's—uhm-hmm… not yellow, but like _pretty and yummy…_ "

"D-d-don't eat my eyes, Kachannnn!"

"I won't, _baka-Izu!_ It's the color—ah! Peachies, it color's like peachies, and they're yummy. So you got green and peachies in your eyes, Izu!"

"P-peachies? Like—like _owange?_

"Hmm-hmm, like _owange,_ " the blonde boy murmured in agreement, but he was still distractedly looking at the colors of Izuku's eyes. He only let go after Izuku yelped suddenly; his gold-and-auburn-flecked emerald eyes squinting up at the bright sun, one hand stretched out as if he wanted to catch it, while the other went underneath his green bangs to shield his eyes.

"Is flew away, Kacchannn! Sorry?"Izuku didn't want to upset the blonde boy again, but Katsuki didn't speak for several seconds; his eyes, wide and sparkling crimson, were focused on Izuku's freckled face inches away from his.

"Kacchan? You mad as me?" Izuku asked uncertainly, and Katsuki cleared his throat and shrugged, grabbing Izuku's hand as he started walking the smaller boy home.

"S'okay, I gots the prettiest one." Katsuki smiled at Izuku, and the other boy smiled back innocently, asking if Katsuki could show him next time. The blonde boy clicked his tongue, then uttered "nevermind" under his breath.

They held hands until they reached the front gate of Izuku's house and Katsuki kissed the shorter Izuku goodbye on his nose, grinning widely. Izuku giggled and waved _Kacchan_ goodbye as he watched him walk home to his house a couple blocks away. The spiky-haired boy had walked almost a half block away when he heard Izuku calling out to him. He turned around and grinned at his friend.

"Hey, Kacchannn!" Izuku shouted in his high-pitched voice.

"Hmm, what?"

"See you tamorrow at school!"

"Yeah, see ya!" Katsuki waved and continued walking.

"Kacchannnn!"

"What, stupid Izu!" He grumbled but looked back just the same, scratching his blonde head.

"'Kayyy!"

"Hah, 'kay what?"

"I'll gonna—I'll gonna me–ma– _mewwy_ you!

Izuku beamed a smile at Katsuki, and the blonde-haired kid blushed and flashed his _two-teeth-missing_ toothy smile.

" **Heh, course you'll gonna."**

Bakugou Katsuki's explosion quirk manifested the next day.

A/N: Hello and thank you for reading! Please let me know what you guys think so I know someone's actually reading my stories lol xD

Btw: I'm finding it so hard to format my stories here so forgive the abrupt feel of the progression and stuff xD


	3. Goodbye

Midoriya Izuku opened his eyes, and he woke up in a world where his dreams were crushed. 

_"It's better to give up; he's almost 7 years old, and the latest someone's quirk manifested was –"_ the doctor explained the situation to Izuku and his mother, his tone impartial and almost careless in his delivery, but the young boy's mind had already gone somewhere else after hearing the words. His mother— _Inko_ —listened carefully to the doctor's diagnosis; trying to overlook the shocked expression on her son's face and remaining calm for Izuku's sake. She had no idea how much the news had devastated her little boy, but she was going to find out. 

… 

_Quirkless._

 _I'm quirkless._

 _I'm quirkless._

 _I'm quirkless._

 _I want to be a pro-hero like All Might._

 _But I'm quirkless._

 _I'm gonna be a pro-hero with Kacchan._

 _But I'm quirkless._

 _I'm quirkless._

 _What…am I going to do? Kacchan and I are supposed to… we promised—_

 _Kacchan._

Izuku.

 _Kacchan!_

 _Kacchan has a quirk._

 _His quirk is amazing and really cool, and he's going to be a pro-hero when we grow up, we're going to be pro-heroes together and—_

Izuku?

 _I'm quirkless._

 _I can't be a hero?_

 _I can't be a hero because I'm quirkless?_

 _But Kacchan is going to be a pro-hero._

 _Kacchan is going to be a pro-hero, but…I—me…I won't…I can't be one… with Kacchan…anymore… I'm –I'm –quirkless, not like Kacchan…not like All Might… I wanna be like them but I can't –I'll never –not anymore, because I'm quirkless. I'm quirkless and — Kacchan is…he's been waiting— he's been asking me when—my quirk—_

 _But I don't have one. A quirk. I won't have one. Never._

 _I'm quirkless, and he—_

 _Kacchan is—_

 _Kacchan is—_ ** _not._**

 _Kacchan is—amazing, and strong, and smart, and I—I'm…_

 _I'm…_

 _I don't have anything._

 _I—_

 _He—Kacchan won't…_

 _He won't want to be with me anymore …_

Izuku!

 _" **Izuku!"**_

Izuku blinked and saw his mother's concerned face looking down at him, tears threatening to fill the corner of her eyes, but she bit her lip to keep them from falling. She lifted her trembling hand from her son's shoulder, who seemed unaware that she was just shaking him in panic moments ago, when he kept staring unblinkingly into space, not responding to any of her words. They had taken the taxi back home without a single word or muttering from the normally chatty and cutely mumbling kid, and Inko wanted to wait until they were home to try and cheer him up and tell Izuku that everything was going to be okay, he _will_ be okay; despite not having a _"superpower"._ He expected that the young boy would cry, or at least shed a tear as soon as they got back home, but he didn't.

As they walked into their house's gate, Izuku's face was quiet and expressionless—until his mother let go of his hand as she fumbled for her key to open the front door. Inko was already inside when she looked back at Izuku, and saw that the little boy was still standing where she left him, calling out to her in a choking voice.

"M-mommy…"

"P-please h-h-help, I… can't breathe..." Izuku's knees buckled, and his tiny body dropped to the ground. He was gasping for breath, green eyes unfocused and wide. His hand grabbed at his chest, and his skin complexion turned ashen.

"Izuku!" Inko ran to her son and carried him inside the house, placing Izuku on the sofa and sprinting to the kitchen to grab a paper bag.

"C-calm, down, honey, here—breathe into this –in, out, breathe… just try to calm down and focus on breathing, that's right, Izuku, just calm yourself down…" Inko's voice was trembling, tears dropping from panic and distress at witnessing his son's suffering.

"It's alright, honey. You're okay, you'll be okay, I promise." Inko sat beside Izuku and cradled his head gently within her arms, rocking him gently and making sure he was inhaling and exhaling correctly into the paper bag. She silently cursed herself for underestimating the extent of damage it would inflict on Izuku upon hearing that he was, unfortunately, never going to have a _quirk_ of his own. She hugged her son tightly to let him know that she was there, and that she loved him. It was the only thing she could think of doing in the moment.

Izuku's breathing relaxed after a few more seconds, and with one deep exhale, he removed his mouth from the bag, and looked up at his mother, his green eyes clouded with sadness and tears, but he still gave his mother a little smile so she would stop worrying.

"I-I'm o-okay now, Mommy," Izuku shyly let go of his mother's embrace and after wiping the tears off his eyes, started folding the paper bag; his mouth moving rapidly without saying a word. He was trying to calm himself, and focus on the task of bending and creasing the bag he was holding into the smallest piece it would let him fold it. He could feel his mother's eyed fixed on him, still worried, so he asked, "M-may I please have some water, Mommy?"

Izuku wasn't really thirsty, but Inko jumped up immediately and ran to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, her socked feet making her slide on the floor a few times before she managed to reach the kitchen. The little boy blushed at his mother's actions, and he wanted to laugh loudly, but only the corners of his mouth lifted into a tiny smile.

He continued to fiddle with the brown paper bag to keep himself occupied; a looming question was ringing in his mind that he _had_ to ask his mother, and when she came back, glass of water in hand, he did.

"M-Mommy, e-even without a quirk, I— Can I still be a hero like All Might?" _Like Kacchan?_

The sound of glass falling to the floor startled the small boy, but it was his mother's words that broke his heart.

 _" **Izuku…Sorry…I'm so sorry…"**_

 _No!_

 _No!_

 _" **No!"**_

Izuku woke up.

He suddenly sat up from the bed, his breathing ragged and his forehead was sweating; dark green curls wet with moisture. He felt hot, like he was running a fever. He wiped his sweat and swung his legs off the bed, tapping his feet blindly on the floor, feeling for his All Might slippers. His throat was dry and he wanted to get a glass of water.

 _It's been a while since I looked back at that mem—_

 _That happened so long ago, Izuku! Shut your mouth and focus!_

 _Hm?_

 _Focus!_

 _Hurry!_

 _Huh?_

 _Focus!_

 _What—_

 _Behind you!_

A soft grunting sound from behind made him turn his head and drop his heart.

 _Still_ sleeping soundly—in the same bed— _his_ bed—the blonde guy's bed—was one **Bakugou Katsuki.**

"WHAT THE MOTHERFATHER SANDALBEACH!?" Izuku's cursing (it was his version of ' _What the motherfucker-son-of-a-bitch!?'_ ) echoed around Bakugou's bedroom and he had enough presence of mind to clamp his hands over his mouth; but apparently, not enough presence of mind to think it was too late to do it.

The sleeping blonde beauty made a soft snoring inhale with his nose, which sounded _both_ angry and cute at the same time.

 _Just like the one who made it._

 _Izuku!_

 _For the love of All Might, stop giggling and HIDE!_

Bakugou's thick brows furrowed together and he suddenly shifted his body, eliciting a scared whimper from Izuku. He lifted his right hand over his ash blonde head, disturbing some of the perfectly spiked tufts of hair, and trapping them between the pillow and the back of his hand. Meanwhile, his left hand, as if in slow motion, sluggishly went down to the waistline of his dark grey sweatpants, sliding inside the hem of his black top, and pushing the fabric up to reveal—Izuku couldn't count how many packs of abs Katsuki had—his mind was still recordi—loading, but there were _many abs,_ and each one was glorious _._

 _Nice job hiding, Izuku._

 _But._

 _But look._

 _Look._

 _Holy mother of Hawaiian sweet rolls, Kacchan!_

 _Like, HOW?_

 _Seriously, how?_

 _You're fracking 16!_

 _Are you some kind of sweaty cyborg?_

 _Like, what even?_

 _God, only if you weren't such a poopyhead, Kacchan… I would so—I would… uhm… well… I haven't thought about what I_ ** _would_** , _b-but it would never happen anyway, b-because y-you can't buy me with just those buns, sir! No, no no!_

 _But…_

 _But seriously, how?_

Izuku's incredulous glances shot back up at Bakugou's face; almost accusingly, and

–MOTHERMARYJOSEPHMOSES!—

Izuku almost, _almost_ screamed again—but, thankfully, because of his presence of mind (?) earlier, he managed to quell the sound, since he hadn't yet removed the hands on his mouth—Bakugou was looking _dead-on, point-blank, a-to-b-shortest-distance,_ straight _at him._

 _Or not._

 _OH, THANK GOD._

 _That almost killed me._

The devil-tempered teenager was still sleeping ( _seriously, is this guy shot with tranquilizer darts every night by Auntie Mitsuki to make him sleep this deeply?),_ but he had moved his head in his sleep, and he was now facing the left side, so much so that if he opened his eyes right at this moment, Izuku's face would be the first thing he would see…sitting in the corner of his bed.

In the dark.

Hands clamped on his mouth, breathing heavily in and out of his nose.

With eyes bulging out, looking unblinkingly at him.

Basically looking like a **pervert stalker** —which as so far known of the _always-slightly-muddled-teen,_ was **not—**

 _You shut your mouth, you! Whoever you are!_

 _I-I'm not a stalker! I'm…I'm just—_

 _I just…really—_

 _Towards Kacchan, I—_

Izuku's glance stayed on Katsuki's sleeping face, looking for something, anything that would—

 _'" **Pathetic."'**_

Izuku flinched and shut his eyes tightly, the word reverberating in his ears. His eyes hurt; they were swollen from crying, but somehow, he could feel his lashes getting wet once more.

 _I can't. Please. No._

 _Stop… please stop…_

 _No more._

 _I've already cried myself to sleep—twice—today._

 _No more._

 _I've had enough._

 _It's enough. I've done enough crying._

 _ **I'm tired.**_

 _I'm tired, Kacchan. I'm so tired._

 _No more._

 _I'm done._

 _I can't hold on anymore, Kacchan._

 _I'm sorry…_

 _I quit._

 _I tried. I really—I tried._

 _But I quit._

 _I quit, Kacchan._

 _I can't do it anymore._

 _I have to let go now._

 _I have to._

 _I don't want to feel like this anymore…_

 _So I'm… I'm gonna let go._

 _I'm moving on, Kacchan…_

 _I'm letting go…_

 _After this, whatever_ ** _this_** _is—I'll—I'm…I'm leaving, so—_

Izuku slowly removed his hands on his mouth and climbed back on the bed beside Bakugou, laying his head down gently on the pillow and getting inside the warm covers. The brief time he spent sitting on the corner of the bed, away from the sleeping teen's warmth, had already made his body feel cold. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed; the bed's soft fabric, and Katsuki's warmth, soothing his nerves and making him more relaxed. Tentatively, carefully— he touched the silky blonde hair with slightly trembling fingers, and smiled sadly.

" **At least let me say goodbye, Kacchan?"**


End file.
